Light, Bright and Sparkling
by mische
Summary: I suddenly thought of Pocahontas's reaction to Kocoum in the old Disney movie and laughed, "I especially love his smile." Lizzie Bennett's junior year was going along swimmingly until Will Darcy arrived on the scene. *Repost*
1. Eyes meet

**Light, Bright and Sparkling**

_One: Eyes Meet_

_**Disclaimer:**__ Jane Austen owns the beloved characters, the magic, and space on my bookshelf._

* * *

He had the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen. They shone, dark and molten and _yearning_, set perfectly in an irresistible face. My heart was melting, melting, a drippy marshmallow over an open flame. The thought of how ridiculous the comparison was flew across my mind, but I dismissed it quickly, attributing it to my giddiness. I sat there, unable to unfreeze my muscles from smiling, because he was right smiling back. I was normally not the impulsive type, but I had to have him. There was an undeniable connection, a thread of mutual recognition and realization.

"Lizzie?"

"He's the one, Jane," I breathed. As soon as the words left my mouth, I simultaneously snorted and giggled at how cheesy I sounded.

I reached down into the cage containing half a dozen energetic puppies and drew him out. He squirmed, warm and gloriously furry between my hands. I pulled him near to my face, he reached out with a small pink tongue, a thin slip of soft sandpaper sliding over the tip of my nose. Cooing noises escaped my throat uncontrollably after that moment. I couldn't thank the Lucases, our wonderfully friendly neighbors, enough for giving away one from their newly acquired litter of puppies—all blessedly healthy, dutifully vaccinated, and disgustingly adorable. It was only after receiving rejection after rejection for compensation from the Lucases that Jane and I, along with the newest addition to our family, stepped outside.

"What are you going to name him?" she asked as we walked down the front steps of their house.

"Fitz," I answered without thinking. I had already decided upon this matter before even seeing him.

"Fitz?"

"After F. Scott Fitzgerald. _Duh_." I grinned and rolled her eyes dramatically at Jane, who could only laugh. A cold gust blew against our faces, whipping our hair back and flapping the edges of our coats, and I wrapped the ends of my blueberry scarf snugly around Fitz before cuddling him close to my body. This was the best Christmas break ever.

* * *

"That was the worst Christmas break ever."

Jane shot me a look before opening her mouth to counter my complaint with what was sure to be a Jane-ism. Jane-isms were her comebacks, her pointing out of the silver lining, her "look on the bright side" encouragements. If she were really feeling emphatic, she might toss in a maternal sigh. Above all, Jane-isms were sincere, straight from the heart of the source herself.

That was how we functioned, Jane and I—I complained, she Janed. It was odd to think of her as my twin sometimes; we were so different. Even to a complete stranger, our not-so-identical appearances were apparent. Jane was fairest of the fair, with honey-blonde hair and skin that burned before you could say "lobster" in the summer sun. There was a time in my life (eighth grade, to be precise) when I was insanely jealous of Jane's looks, but I quickly realized that it was not the blonde hair and blue eyes that set her apart from me. No, the biggest differences between Jane and me lay not on the outside, but within, as trite as it all sounded. Of all the people I had ever met, Jane still held the title of kindest, pleasantest, "goodest," if you would—in the sense that she possessed the most goodness I'd ever seen in one individual. I realized at a young age that my twin was pretty much an angel. I, on the other hand, admittedly had quite a short temper and a tendency to complain. Luckily, I always had Jane at my side to counteract any negative energy I'd put out into the cosmos.

In that moment, however, I found myself covering for my complaint. "Okay, that's not what I meant. It wasn't the worst. But it was definitely the shortest. It's just _so_ early," I moaned, dragging the words from my mouth. My forehead banged forward into the dark green lockers. "You know I'm grouchy when it's early."

"Lizzie, it's already _lunchtime_!" Jane's bright laugh rang from my right. "Oh, come on. I am starving!" It was times like these that I wondered how many genes I shared with this endlessly cheerful girl, who didn't believe morning classes were a crime against the youth of America. My shoulders were suddenly yanked back with surprising force, and I was steered away from the lockers. We wound through the hallways and down stairwells clogged with students pressing against each other, eager to get to lunch. Loud conversations filled the air, echoing off of other voices and the pastel plastered walls, freshly painted after school had let out last semester.

"Anyway, how was your morning?" she asked.

"Not bad, I guess. I fell asleep in English." The memory of Mrs. Cates droning on and on about something floated through my mind. I hadn't bothered to pay attention to her. No matter, really, because I would see her again in the afternoon, when she would probably laugh at my snooze in her earlier class. She was a pretty terrible British literature teacher, but I knew in my journalism period she was going to be the hilarious, upbeat advisor of our student-run newspaper, the _Ledger_.

"Already? It's the first day back!"

"Exactly," I agreed. "How was your morning?"

"Oh, it was great! Mr. Moretti is such a good calculus teacher. I actually understood what was going on."

"That's a first," I teased. Jane elbowed me lightly. She was anything but a dumb blonde—in fact, she was much more studious than me—but I always found delight in giving her grief about her beauty and brains.

We turned a corner and reached the cafeteria doors, propped open by the rush of students going inside. Lunchtime at Meryton Academy was never a dull affair, Monday morning or not. The spacious, open cafeteria was where the concentration demanded by rigorous courses collided with the boredom and excessive energy teenagers inherently exuded. This could only amount to one thing, of course: gossip. And the first day back from winter break was sure to be an opportunity to discuss who was now together, who was now split, and what exactly went down at that one New Year's Eve party. The volume and energy level on a whole was magnified, and my body immediately began to feel more and more awake. We made our way slowly to our usual spot through the throngs of other juniors, saying hi and giving smiles and hugs to the friends we'd missed during the holidays. Jane and I had just settled down with Mary and Luke and were asking about Luke's vacation to Greece when Lydia, our dear baby freshman sister and quite the little gossipmonger, scrambled over. She was bursting at the seams in her chatty excitement.

"Did you hear about the new kids yet?" she bubbled, sliding into an open seat. She didn't wait for a response before barreling on, "They're over there, right behind you, Lizzie, the redhead and his sister, Charlie and Caroline Bingley. You know what's funny? They're twins, too! No, don't _look_, Lizzie!" I rolled my eyes at my little sister and caught Luke's chortle at Lydia's behavior. "And do you see that tall one next to them? The _really_ good-looking one? _That_ is Will Darcy." Lydia's smirk stretched across her freckled face. I saw Jane's gaze shift, and Mary twisted her neck surreptitiously to catch a glimpse. I shook my head lightly at Lydia's endless chase after boys, although, to be honest, I did want to see for myself this "_really_ good-looking one." There seemed to be a fair shortage of them at our small private school. I decided against twisting all the way around in my chair to ogle, and instead took another bite of my turkey, tomato, and melted cheese sandwich.

"Oh, wait, I know him," said Jane. "He was the new kid in my history class."

"Who, Will Darcy?" Lydia could not keep the envy out of her voice and wide eyes.

"No, Charlie. He's a really nice guy." Jane had a funny little smile on her face.

"Pretty cute too, huh, Jane?" Luke nudged her, and she blushed because she's an innocent little angel like that, Jane is.

"Nothing compared to Will, though." Lydia was still staring.

"Well, go over there and introduce yourself." I was only half-joking, and a small burst of excited laughter escaped all of our throats as she stood in acceptance of my casual challenge. As our gazes followed her, I took the opportunity to shift in my chair and finally get my first glimpse of these new students. They were easy to spot, sitting at a table not far from us, two heads with hair that shone the same bright, coppery-red. Charlie was talking amiably to a senior, but next to him, his sister looked furiously miserable as she picked at her salad. At the end of the table sat who I presumed to be Will. I was genuinely taken aback upon first glance, not because of his looks—which were admittedly striking in a dark sort of way—but because of his air. His face radiated a solemnity rarely seen in teenagers. His mouth was twisted in a half-frown as he ate. I suddenly wondered why they had moved here. Judging from the looks on Will and Caroline's faces, they definitely weren't pleased about the change.

Lydia reached their table, sauntering around and behind Will and Caroline with a sunshine smile. She introduced herself and began her bubbly chitchatting, but after a few moments it became clear that the only person she could engage in conversation was Charlie. He grinned and laughed to almost a ridiculous degree as they talked. Caroline occasionally humored her with a couple sentences here and there when Lydia addressed her, but on the whole she seemed to regard Lydia as an annoyance (which, admittedly, she could be sometimes). As for Will the Tall, Dark, and Handsome, he had briefly made eye contact when she first arrived, but spoke only a few words before turning his attention back to his meal. No matter how many times Lydia addressed him, he seemed determined to ignore her. I studied his manner with a strange curiosity before I blinked and realized that he was looking straight back at me. There was an almost angry expression in his eyes that sparked both confusion and my own anger. How long had I been staring at him? Heat flared on my face. Not knowing what to do, I quirked a smile, more reactionary than anything else. He instantly looked back down. It seemed to me that this "_really_ good-looking one" was quite the antisocial. I turned back to the table.

"Not handsome enough for your ogling?" Luke asked, quirking a brow.

"I especially love his smile." I replied, suddenly thinking of Pocahontas's reaction to Kocoum in the old _Disney_ movie. I laughed at myself, and Luke threw me an odd look, which I ignored. "Anyway, tell me more about Greece! Did you meet any girls or not?"

* * *

_**A/N:**__ Hello, everyone! Seems like in every author's note, I feel this need to apologize. I'm reposting "Light, Bright and Sparkling," because I felt that I could have taken more time to flesh out the individual chapters. I know most of this chapter was a repeat, so apologies for that, too. The good news is that the next couple of chapters will be up soon!_

_I do realize that this modernized-to-high-school-P&P plot has been rehashed til it can't be rehashed no more, and I fully acknowledge that this storyline is not original by any means. It is an exercise to get me to write again (regularly!), and hopefully a chance for me to develop character and descriptive writing. Your feedback will be enormously appreciated. Thank you for reading!_

_Cheers,  
mische_


	2. Reaction

**Light, Bright and Sparkling**

_Two: Reaction_

_**Disclaimer: **__Jane Austen owns the beloved characters, the magic, and the space on my bookshelf._

* * *

Ah, chemistry class. The bane of my existence.

No matter how hard I tried in this course—and I did try quite hard—I never understood any of it: the reactions, the equations, the theory. Mary's patient tutoring was the sole reason for my passing grade in the class. Wednesdays were the worst: lab day.

Today was a Wednesday.

I slid the safety goggles over my eyes, and through the smeared plastic I looked around the room for my lab partner, Colin Hunsford. Colin was some kind of chemistry prodigy, and as far as lab work went, he was always more than happy to complete the experiment with minimal help from me. The most I ever contributed was fetching a beaker or measuring a few grams of some unidentifiable solid. I knew I should be grateful for the pairing, but Colin was also generally unpleasant to be around. He was, to be blunt, an arrogant teacher's pet. He loved to start unbearable rants that were far beyond the scope of our curriculum, obviously itching to show off his superior wealth of knowledge. The teacher, unfortunately, liked to indulge him more often than not. But Colin wasn't here today, as far as I could tell. I began to feel a smidge worried, knowing full well the extent of my inadequacy in the lab and hence, my dependence on Colin.

Students were settling at their lab tables, pulling out notebooks, and starting the experiment. I glanced down at today's experiment in my notebook: titrations. I could do this. One step at a time. What was a titration, again?

"Does anyone need a lab partner?" Mr. Harwell's floated above the general commotion in the room.

"I do!" I spun around upon hearing his all-too perfect question and flung my hand into the air before I had even spotted the lean figure standing by Mr. Harwell. It was none other than Will Darcy. How could I have forgotten that he'd joined my chemistry class after lunch on Monday? Every female eye had been upon him as he'd made his way to a seat on the opposite side of the room. Today was his first time in lab, then. Mr. Harwell had gestured for him to join me, and before I knew it, he strode over, making eye contact briefly. He had same hard, serious expression from a few days ago when I first saw him. This was the closest I'd ever been to him, and the only thing I could think about was how he very tall he was. It was a little intimidating.

"Hi," I smiled.

"Hi." No smile.

"I'm Lizzie," I offered after a brief pause.

He nodded. "Will."

I vaguely wondered if he was aware that the entire female population at Meryton already knew his name. He bent down and opened up his book bag to take out his notebook before placing the bag under the desk. I pretended to read through the procedure again, but I took the chance to surreptitiously stare at him. His physical presence caused an unsettling feeling in my stomach, because—I had to admit it, I'd be lying to myself if I thought otherwise—he _was_ really good-looking. His features were strong, making him look a little older than a high-school student, and his dark hair was a little on the long side for a guy. He straightened to his full height, and I met his gaze. A few seconds passed in silence, and the level of awkwardness skyrocketed.

"O-_kay_! Well, the goggles are over there. Mr. Harwell is really touchy about them, so be sure to wear them until the very end of class. This is today's lab. Here, you can look in my notebook for the format he wants. It's pretty simple, just purpose, brief outline of procedure, all that stuff. I think that's about it. I'm going to go get some hydrochloric acid. Just read over the lab, I guess." As I spoke, I waved over to a cabinet on the right side of the room, slid my open notebook over toward him, and hurried away from the table with a graduated cylinder in hand.

I was completely thrown off by his unfriendly demeanor (and, if I was willing to admit it, his attractiveness, which was magnified by an astonishing factor with proximity). As I measured out the prescribed amount of acid, I decided that it wasn't his fault. Maybe he was having a bad day. Maybe he enjoyed lab about as much as I did. When I returned, he was sliding on a pair of goggles and reading over the lab in my notebook.

"I have a confession to make," I announced. "I am absolutely terrible at chemistry, so I apologize in advance for being a bad lab partner."

Seemingly not amused at all by my half-sarcastic, half-serious attempt at explaining my deficiency in science, he simply muttered, "Okay." He didn't look up from my notebook. A memory of watching Lydia trying to start a conversation with him a few days ago flashed through my mind. I stifled a strange, sudden urge to burst into laughter, out of my growing embarrassment rather than amusement. I had never in my life met someone quite so antisocial.

"But I do what I can, and I can at least go get all the things we need. I'll probably need just some help understanding what actually happens, the science behind it all," I added, hoping for some sort of significant response from him.

Instead, he gave the same clipped, "Okay," as before, opened his own notebook, and began to copy the lab from mine. I stood awkwardly, graduated cylinder of acid still in hand, not knowing what the next step in the experiment was. Was he even aware of anything I was saying or doing? I felt my embarrassment sour, and irritation rose up within me to take its place. Was he even capable of holding a decent conversation, much less working with a partner? "Hey, do you think you could possibly copy down the lab later, so we can get started?" Frustration leaked into my voice. "The labs usually take the entire period, and I'd really like to get done on time."

As if on cue, Mr. Harwell suddenly came up from behind us. "You two want to get started?"

"Oh, we have. We were just introducing ourselves. Right, Will?" I kept my tone light, but I couldn't help the sarcasm.

"Yes, sorry. We're just getting started." He straightened, looking at Mr. Harwell. I took the opportunity to grab my notebook back from Will and read the procedure. Dumping the acid into the proper flask, I desperately wished for the hour to pass by quickly.

* * *

Tardiness. One of my biggest pet peeves. Ironically, I seemed to also be exceptionally good at being late. It was a nasty habit, and I mentally re-resolved to break it as I rushed from my locker to the third floor. My legs were burning by the time I entered the classroom. Luckily, it was journalism period, and the worst Mrs. Cates would do was make fun of me.

"Well, hello! As the sun rises and sets, if it isn't Ms. Bennett!" Mrs. Cates called out from behind her desk across the room.

"Sorry, Ms. Cates," I called back.

"Sure you are. Get to work on that editorial." She turned her attention back to the article she was proofreading.

I headed over to my usual computer, right behind Luke's desk. I glanced over his shoulder at his sketchbook; it seemed like our paper's resident cartoonist was already halfway through his comic strip for the next issue. I threw my backpack down in the chair next to his, logged into the computer, and twisted around in my seat to face him while waiting for the computer to start up.

"You would not believe what happened in lab today," I groaned.

"Is that why you were late?" he chuckled. "What'd Colin do this time?"

Luke and I had been close friends ever since he'd switched into Meryton in sixth grade. He had taken the empty seat next to me in history class, and at first he seemed determined to be studious. I, on the other hand, hardly paid attention. The class was one incredible bore for me; memorizing names, events, and dates came so naturally to me, and our teacher never bothered to delve into the subject beyond that. When Luke arrived, my pent-up boredom finally had an outlet, and I pestered him until he couldn't ignore me any longer without being rude. That was the first thing I noticed about Luke: for a thirteen-year-old boy, he was incredibly well-mannered and mature. The second thing I grew to learn about Luke was that he was insightful, armed with a perceptiveness that extended well beyond his years. He knew even before I did about my crush on Rick Wontwerth, just like he knew his parents were going to get a divorce before the word was even mentioned in his household. But the real reason why I liked Luke so much was because of his steady, sensible character, through all of my silliness, teasing, and temper. We were such good friends that during the summer before high school started, we decided to try dating. Unfortunately, the feelings on both sides never genuinely grew beyond platonic, and we started freshman year as just friends. I sometimes almost wished we'd worked, though. After Jane, Luke was the best person I knew.

"Oh, no. It wasn't even Colin. He wasn't here today." I turned back toward the computer, opened a blank document, and stared at it, wondering what to write my opinion piece on. "I wish he had been," I muttered.

"Wow. What happened?"

"I got partnered with Will Darcy."

"Really! Did you ogle?"

"I walked out of the room with more appreciation for Colin than I've ever had before."

Luke laughed. When I didn't show any sign that I was joking, he prodded, "That bad?"

I stopped typing and sat back, remembering how he had acted, picturing his unfriendly countenance. "He didn't _talk_, at all. He just seemed to be pissed off at the world the entire time. And he just kept on giving me these _looks_. I think he thought I was a complete idiot. Which, admittedly, I am—in lab, at least—but still. I warned him that I was bad, but I didn't even mess up! The experiment itself went perfectly fine. But he was the worst partner. I mean about antisocial. I think he was trying to set a record for least number of words uttered."

Luke paused before replying, "Give him a break. He did come in the middle of the semester. He's still adjusting, and I'm sure the Meryton gossip mill isn't helping."

I didn't answer, but my mind fiercely disagreed. How was being sullen and silent any way to adjust to a new school? Will Darcy had completely blown his chance of making a good impression on _me_.

* * *

_**A/N:**__ Yay, chapter two! The next one will be up soon. In the meantime, I'd love your feedback!_


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